


Starved For Affection

by The_Sad_Hatter



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Cunnilingus, Dry Humping, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Face-Sitting, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Sensuality, Smut, Soft Bucky, Touch-Starved Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-19 23:03:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18980146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Sad_Hatter/pseuds/The_Sad_Hatter
Summary: Steve would sometimes grip his shoulder or pull him in for a fleeting hug but that was the extent of kind human contact he had experienced in seventy years. Until now.Bucky finds sanctity in your embrace and comfort in your touch.





	1. Winters Warmth

“You’re shivering.”

 

Bucky spoke into the silence, making you jump slightly. You were on alert, aware that the peaceful quiet could literally be blown to smithereens at any second if the Hydra base three miles away caught wind of your presence. So when his gravelly voice pierced the night, albeit softly, you were startled.

 

“It’s _snowing_ and we don’t even have the luxury of a tent or a fire. Course I’m shivering Barnes.” You said through chattering teeth.

 

Stark had at least been kind enough to supply you with thermal padding in your tactical suit and Natasha had slipped a few Deep Heat patches into your bag but the Baltic temperatures were still sinking into your bones and he wondered if he was as cold as he was, how the hell were you managing.

 

“Get in the sleeping bag.” He said, unzipping himself and trying to wave you over.

 

“No, I’m on watch and I can wait my turn.” You assured.

 

“Please?” He pleaded softly, assaulting you with puppy dog eyes to rival Steve’s.

 

You stood up and padded over to the sleeping back, crawling inside with a grateful look.

 

“At least get in with me. You’re frozen as well.” You stammered, cold making you shiver violently.

 

The offer made him stiffen in surprise and anxiety. Steve would sometimes grip his shoulder or pull him in for a fleeting hug but that was the extent of kind human contact he had experienced in seventy years. Until now. Because when he saw another violent shudder ripple through you, his resolve broke and he quickly climbed inside the sleeping bag with you, hoping his warmth would stave off the worst of the bitter weather for you.

 

Having your soft body pressed against him was almost too much, too overwhelming but in the very best way. You were shivering so hard you were almost vibrating against him and the timidly wrapped his flesh arm around you, waiting for you to stiffen at the unwelcome touch or push him away but you didn’t. Instead, you made a soft little whimper of gratitude and latched onto his arm. It broke the last vestiges of his resolve and he pressed his whole body against yours, enveloping you.

 

God, you were _so soft._

 

Slowly your shivering subsided as his body heat transferred and your breathing evened out as you drifted off to sleep. He was supposed to be on watch, on mission but the softness of your body, the calm tranquillity of the moment and the warmth blooming in his chest that you accepted his touch all lulled him into a cozy state of restfulness. Without meaning for it to happen, he fell into a dreamless slumber.  

 

He was mostly asleep, only distantly aware of the pleasure rippling through his core. The fogginess of the unplanned nap started to lift, but not quickly enough. He was too wrapped up in sleep to stop his hips grinding, chasing more of that delicious friction that was sending sparks of desire through him. Until a breathy feminine moan broke through his consciousness and suddenly he was painfully alert.

 

His mind may have caught up, but his body was still on autopilot. Guilt and shame coursed through him, making him feel nauseous but it didn’t offset the sheer pleasure he was deriving from the way his hips were thrusting against you, pressing his agonizingly hard cock into your plump ass. An unbidden groan crawled out of his throat and it finally brought him fully to his senses. He forced his body to stop moving, excreting all of his self-control to hold back from violating you any further.

 

He hadn’t meant to do it, hadn’t even been aware that he was. His whole body had just taken over and acted instinctually but now he was aware of it, he felt the burn of disgrace thundering through his veins. But even knowing how wrong it was, how awful he was for wanting it, his body was thrumming with pent up energy and he fought against his baser instincts.

 

“You don’t have to stop.”

 

His heart palpated painfully in his chest at the whisper spilling from your lips, the sleepily muttered offer. He made a strangled sound as he tried to hold back, tried to think it through but it had been 70 fucking years and you were the softest, sweetest, most beautiful thing and he wasn’t going to wait for you to offer again. He wasn’t going to waste the opportunity. He wrapped his arm tightly around your waist and pulled you flush against his body, ensuring there wasn’t a centimetre between you before he harshly ground his groin into you ass. Even through the layers of clothing, he could feel you, feel the way his shaft slotted snugly between your cheeks and it felt utterly fucking divine.

 

There was nothing gentle or romantic about the way he frantically humped you. It was the desperate pace of a touch starved man who needed release and you must have known that because you reached your hand behind your head and clasped the back of his head, pulling his face into your neck. He buried his face into your skin, inhaling the warm heady scent of you and relishing in the soft feel of your flesh against his. His hips worked relentlessly, rubbing his cock against you and he could feel the pre-cum gushing from his swollen head begin to stain his boxers.

 

It was filthy, it was primal and it was sorely needed. He couldn’t even find it in himself to be ashamed. He just ran his hand over your body, feeling as much of you as he could while he rutted into you and when he bravely jutted out his tongue to lao at the tender flesh of your neck, you tangled your fingers in his hair and gently scraped your nails across his scalp.

 

That was his undoing. His cock twitched against your ass and he moaned loudly, in a way he never had before as his balls got unbearably tight before the coil snapped and he came, clutching at you wildly and whimpering your name over and over. He came harder and longer than he ever had before, shooting spurts of sticky semen inside his boxers and throughout it he was dimly aware of whispering gentle, affectionate encouragements to him.

 

When he was finally spent he wriggled his metal arm from under his body so he could wrap both arms around you and pull you close, clutching you madly. He was suddenly terrified you would shove him away, that your kindness had run it’s course. He hadn’t even tried to touch you, to make it good for you and he was regretting it. When you wriggled in his hold his heart stopped beating, to preserve it from breaking probably.

 

But all you did was turn so you were facing him and wrap your arm over his waist, your hand splayed across his back and your fingers gently rubbing soothing circles into his muscles.

 

“Go back to sleep James, I’ve got you.” You whispered.

 

He curled his body around you, resting his cheek on the top of your head and sliding his knee between yours. He’d suffer in the morning for not getting up and cleaning himself off, he’d finally be hit with the guilt and the shame but right know he didn’t care. In the freezing cold snow, on Hydra’s doorstep, he did as you said and he slept. And it was the best sleep he he’d had in seventy years.

 

 


	2. Would You Let Me In If I Asked

Maybe it was a dream. Maybe you just didn’t remember. Maybe he had imagined the whole thing. Whatever had happened, you were acting like nothing was different. You were acting like he hadn’t clutched you tightly and used your body to get himself off. His guilt and shame were making him feel physically ill, he was trembling with it.

 

As soon as you had woken you were acting professional, polite but focused. You had stretched your limbs and thrown him an easy smile before getting on the comms and checking in with the team.

 

When the attack on the Hydra compound began he shook off all thoughts of what had transpired the night before and got to work, working in perfect sync with Steve and Sam to take care of his portion of the mission, and from the feedback on the comms, you were doing just as well with Natasha and Wanda.

 

It was a long, blood drenched day and he was glad when it was over. As soon as he boarded the quinjet he took his customary seat in the corner and quietly sat there with his head bowed as the rest of the exhausted team trudged aboard. Steve and Sam both checked on him as they walked past, the former gripping his shoulder. As usual, the touch was over too quickly and he resisted the urge to pout.

 

As the engines kicked to life and they took off he closed his eyes and worked on evening out his breathing, his other senses kicking in so he was aware of his surroundings. Barely five minutes passed before someone was approaching him, someone small and light on their feet. His eyes snapped open to see you standing in front of him, your attention on the pile of supplies in your arms. You tipped your body forwards so a bottle of water toppled from your cradled grasp and he automatically caught it.

 

“You’ve got a little scrape on your forehead. Brought you some stuff to clean it.” You said gently.

 

“Got hit by some shrapnel, it’s nothing.” He assured quickly.

 

“Ok good, I can have the trauma team stand down.” You quipped, dropping packets of gauze on his lap.

 

“Can I?” You asked, ripping a wipe open and nodding at the cut.

 

“Can you?” He repeated, thrown.

 

You tentatively reached out, giving him the chance to pull away. He stayed carefully still and let you dab at the dried blood on his temple, cleaning the small scrape. You and he both knew you could have done it without touching him but you didn’t. Your free hand cradled his face, holding him still as you painstakingly wiped every trace of dirt and blood from his skin. He leaned into your touch unconsciously, his eyelids fluttering when you brushed your thumb back and forth across his cheekbone.

 

When you were done he blinked up at you languidly. The gentle, easy, freely given affection was making him feel almost high.

 

“Any other injures I need to know about?” You asked softly.

 

He almost wished he was more injured.

 

“No.” He whispered.

 

“Ok, drink that water. I’m going to go check on Wanda.” You instructed, moving your hand away.

 

He nodded wordlessly, biting down on his tongue to stop himself saying something stupid, like ‘please don’t stop touching me’.

 

By the time you’d finished seeing to Wanda and helped Sam stitch up a small gash on the back of his thigh, they’d arrived back at the compound.

 

“Ok, good hustle everybody. Let’s save the briefings and celebrations till tomorrow, agreed? Ok good!” Tony said, escaping before anyone could argue.

 

Not that anybody would. Everybody was pretty spent. Sam had an arm slung over your shoulder, playing up his minor injury so you’d help carry him inside. Bucky narrowed his eyes at the Falcon and resisted the urge to give him a real injury to whine about, instead watching sadly as you walked inside, out of sight.

 

He dragged his tired body inside, to his own room. With every step he felt like his skin was burning, itching, scorching. His mind was racing, turning over everything. You’d touched him in the quinjet… did that mean it wasn’t a dream? Were you possibly not angry with him, not disgusted?

 

Was it possible you understood what he had needed and given it to him without making a big deal out of it?

 

Or were you embarrassed?

 

Were you ashamed?

 

Did you hate him, or did you pity him?

_Would you touch him again?_

He felt like he might die if you did and he’d die if you didn’t. For hours he paced his room, crawled under the covers and tossed and turned. He closed his eyes and tried not to think of you until he gave in and wrapped the memory of you around himself like a comfort blanket. Throughout it all he was hyperaware of the fact that you were only a few doors away. He could almost feel your presence, calling to him, his skin yearning for your touch, his soul aching for your comfort.

 

He didn’t know what he wanted from you, what he needed. He just let his feet carry him to your door, let his knuckles rap gently on the wood. You would most likely turn him away but he needed to try. Even if it meant shame and embarrassment for him, he had to try.

 

His heart hammered in his chest as he heard your shuffling footsteps on the other side of the door and when it swung open his heart was suddenly in his throat and he couldn’t speak. He just looked at you helplessly, pleading with his eyes.

 

And you reached out with your hand, holding it out to him. His fingertips brushed yours and the anxiety that had been buzzing inside of him quieted as you took a hold of his hand and pulled him into the room.

 

You didn’t say a word as you led him through the dark, cool room to the bed and pulled back the covers with your free hand, gently pushing him onto the mattress.

 

“Tell me what you need Bucky.” You whispered.

 

There was no judgement in your tone, no teasing in your words, no demand. It was a gentle prompt, and he heard the promise in it. But his voice was still absent, so he showed you what he needed instead.

 

He pulled you onto the bed, lifting you as though you weighed nothing until you were straddling him and gave a quick glance at your face to make sure you were alright with it. There was only affection in your eyes and… lust?

 

He made a strangled noise in the back of his throat as he came to the sudden realisation that this wasn’t pity, this was mutual desire. His heart felt so full that he thought it might burst.

 

He’d been hard for hours, since the second he’d thought about your soft body and with the way you were straddling him, all that hardness was pressed firmly against your clothed pussy. But even through the thin material of your sleep shorts, he could feel your heat. When his hips jerked up into you of their own accord, he could feel the involuntary twitch you gave in response.

 

A warm, comforting haze settled over his mind like a fog and his spine arched and his eyes fluttered closed as your hands ran over his chest, your fingers tracing his collarbone. He lost himself in your touch, letting the contact sooth him and simultaneously light a fire in his blood. Your hands continued on their upward trajectory until they were clasped around the back of his skull, your fingers tangling in his hair and carefully tugging at it until his head bac pulled back and his throat exposed.

 

He clutched at your hips as you leant forwards and let your lips hover over his Addams apple, your breath fanning across his skin. Even the barest of touches was like heaven and he was putty in your hands, in that moment he would let you do anything you wanted to him, so long as you didn’t stop touching him.

 

It wasn’t in his nature to trust so blindly or to hand over his control, but he knew you would never hurt him. All you offered him was pleasure.

 

Your tongue darted out and licked a stripe over the skin of his throat, lapping at the salty taste of his skin. Your touch was so distracting that he was only vaguely aware of the way his hips were slowly thrusting upwards, pushing into you. All the pleasure he was feeling over his body mad merged into one mind-blowing sensation until you tilted his head towards yours and ran your lips across his jaw and gave him a tender, questioning look, your eyes flicking to his lips.

 

God, you actually _wanted_ to kiss him. You were _asking_ his _permission_.

 

He surged forwards, sitting up and wrapping his arms around you so you were pressed tightly to his chest and for a brief moment he forgot why he’d done it, he got caught up in the way it felt to have someone held so close to him. It quickly came rushing back though, the knowledge that the beautiful woman on his lap was waiting for his kiss.

 

He felt like his whole body was shaking uncontrollably, and everything seemed to slow down as he ducked his head and moved his face closer to yours. He could feel your breath on his lips, feel the heat radiating from your mouth and finally the lightest touch of your lips against his. With that minute touch, he broke.

 

His control shattered and seventy years of loneliness, an entire lifetime of looking for love and months of knowing you but not being with you all took over him. His lips captured yours and he groaned at the sensation, flicking his tongue across your plump bottom lip and begging for access. Your lips parted immediately and he dove inside, exploring with a frenzied desire, claiming you.

 

His teeth clashed against yours almost painfully but neither of you paid it any heed, too wrapped up in each other. Hands roamed everywhere, clothes were discarded and Bucky wasn’t quite sure where he ended and you began as your bare skin slid against his. A faint tinge of copper mingled with the taste of you but if you were bleeding then you didn’t seem to mind and if he was, he definitely didn’t care. All he cared about was your hands on his back, your chest pressed into his and your tongue intertwined with his. Until your hands tugged at the waistband of his boxers, tugging them down.

 

That caught his attention.

 

“I won’t… I won’t last.” He gasped, needing you to understand.

 

It had been so fucking long, even this was  pushing him dangerously close to the edge. There was no judgement from you though and you gently pushed him back until he was lying flat on the bed. Now that you weren’t pressed against him, his eyes were free to roam over you. The only piece of clothing left on you was the tiny sleep shorts and something deep in his abdomen tightened at the sight of your bare breasts, so soft and perfect.

 

“I’ll stop if you want me to stop.” You offered.

 

“Don’t stop!” He choked out immediately.

 

The smile you gave him in answer was somehow sweet and comforting and sinful and erotic all at the same time as you carefully tugged his boxers down over his hips and his cock sprang free. You ran your hands over his hips, fingers pressing into the sharp V shaped ridge as you leant forwards. His breath caught in his chest as your lips hovered over his shaft in a way he could only describe as sensual.

 

Your mouth was so warm and wet and heavenly and he watched with vigorous concentration as his shaft slid past your lips, until he felt his head connect with the back of your throat. He could feel your tongue curling around him and when you hollowed your cheeks and sucked he fell apart. His hands tore at the sheets, the headboard, anything in his reach and stars filled his vision. Your hands slipped between his thighs and cupped his balls, massaging gently and he was done for.

 

He may have yelled, broken furniture, torn the sheets, he didn’t have a fucking clue. All he was aware of was the pulsing and throbbing of his cock inside your mouth as he came down your throat and the way you lapped at him with your tongue and sucked every last drop of cum from him.

 

When his mind kickstarted again you were knelt above him, your hand gently stroking his face. He nuzzled into you, pressing a kiss to the heel of your palm.

 

“Can… can I…?” He whispered into your skin, running his fingers gently along your hip.

 

You knew what he was asking and nodded softly, slipping off the bed and hooking your thumbs into the waistband of your pyjamas.

 

He was transfixed by the way you shimmed out of your shorts, your hips swaying from side to side, it was the sexiest thing he had ever seen and you weren’t even trying. The shorts hit the floor and you crawled up his body, settling your thighs on either side of his waist.

 

“Is this ok?” You whispered.

 

He ran his hands along your thighs, ignoring the way seeing the metal against you skin made him feel sick because you didn’t seem to mind at all. He placed his hands firmly on your hips and pulled your body down until you were pressed against him and the little gasp that left your mouth made him smile. You ground against him, dragging your cunt across his abdomen and he felt your wetness dripping onto his skin, coating his abs. He tightened his grip on you and controlled your movements, grinding you against his body and relishing in the moans you made.

 

You were beautiful. You were divine. You were pure and wonderful and watching you ride his body was the most transcendent experience of his life. But he wanted more, he didn’t just want to watch you come, he wanted to make you do it.

 

You let out a small yip of surprise that turned into a loud, drawn out moan as he picked you up by the thighs and lifted you up his body, settling you over his face and licking a stripe across your slit without hesitation.

 

“Bucky!” You gasped and right there, he vowed to do whatever he had to do to make his name cross your lips like that again.

 

His metal hand grabbed a handful of your ass, kneading and massaging the soft flesh and his flesh arm wrapped around your thigh as his tongue dove between your folds. Your palms slapped against the wall as he begun a thorough exploration of your cunt with his mouth, licking and sucking at every bit of sensitive flesh. He kissed your pussy the way he had your mouth, without a shred of self-restraint.

 

You were filling his senses, he could feel you, taste you, smell you and hear you. It was filling the aching void inside of him with something warm and soothing  and eagerly pushed his tongue inside you, massaging your inner walls and relishing in the way you whimpered his name.

 

As his lips closed around your clit and his tongue drew circles around the swollen nub he thought to himself that this was perfection, it couldn’t get any better. And then your hand reached down and your fingers tangled in his hair as you moaned something that had him growling hungrily.

 

“James!”

 

He sucked harshly at your clit, his fingers pressing into your flesh and you came apart for him. Your wetness drenched his stubble as he felt you shudder and clench and your spine bowed until you were leant so far back that your hair ticked at his stomach and groin. He held you in place tightly and ate you out until you were too sensitive to be touched anymore, only then did he sit up, gently lowering you onto the mattress.

 

You were dazed, recovering from the body shaking he’d caused and the pride made his chest swell. He crawled along your body, pressing his lips to your skin as he went, showering you with affection until he reached your neck and your arms circled around him, pulling him up until your lips collided with his.

 

“Will you stay the night?” You whispered against his mouth.

 

If you’d let him, he’d stay forever, but he’d start with tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually quite proud of this. It's just fluffy and sensual smut and I'm actually patting myself on the back ngl.

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a lil fluffy/smutty series of drabbles I came up with for myself because they're therapeutic. I don't have to write and post them if you're not interested though?


End file.
